Page 6 of Sweet Surrender

“And if not, then we just say what we’ve been saying.”

“Fuck you, Paul,” we say in unison followed by laughter.

“I have to get back to work, but I’m here, any time. You know that.”

“I do. Thanks, Josie.”

I watch her walk off and then allow myself to savor the first sip of my iced coffee. I’m tired and the kick of caffeine is welcome as I open my design folder. I shuffle through sketch after sketch of icing designs for the cookie tops. It sounds ridiculous to have a portfolio for my cookies, but then again, being original isn’t exactly the easiest in this town of dreamers and artists.

With a sigh, I turn the page on my sketches. Only in Hollywood does a famous couple hire you to design and provide one thousand cookies for their dog’s birthday party, but who am I to judge? A paycheck is a paycheck no matter how strange the work is.

A design idea strikes me and when I look down to my purse to grab my colored pencil kit, a voice nearby says, “Excuse me, miss?”

“Unless you have fifty, eighty—hell, why be stingy—one hundred grand to save my business and cheat-induced insanity, then I don’t want any,” I mutter as a pair of black combat boots arrives before me. I know who they belong to immediately.

Pretending he’s not standing there or that I said what I just said isn’t an option, so I take my time with a slow glance up his body to meet his eyes.

And Jesus.

The man is more than just pale blue eyes and a hoodie. He’s taller than I anticipated, ruggedly handsome with a sharp jaw and dimples in both cheeks that form as he greets me with a smile.

I seem to have lost my words for a moment as I stare at him with narrowed eyes and parted lips.

“Yes?” I croak.

The roguish smirk on his face says he most definitely heard me. “I think you dropped this.”

He holds my business card out to me, but I’m too busy focusing on his honey-coated gravel to respond. My glance down greets me with strong forearms where his sleeves are pushed up to display a sprinkling of intricate tattoos—including what looks like a large pink heart on his wrist.

“Um. Yes. Sure.” Snap out of it. I reach out and take my card from his hand. “Uh, thanks.”

“Cookie Cutter?”

That voice. It’s sex on silk sheets. Not that I’d know or anything but . . . never mind.

“Yeah.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder as if he knows where I’m motioning. “It’s my bakery. Down the street. I bake cookies.”

Way to sound intelligent, Hendrix.

“I’m Jase.” He holds his hand out and I look at it for a beat before I realize I’m supposed to shake it.

“Hi. Yes.” Our hands meet as I attempt to ignore the delicious scent of his cologne. It’s clean and reminds me of outdoors. “I’m Hendrix.”

“Hendrix?” He lifts his brows and fights a smile I don’t quite understand. “Interesting name.”

“Yeah, well, blame it on my dad.”

“No. I like it. It’s . . . fitting.”

“Okay.” Whatever that means. He studies me without shame. His gaze grazes over my features before meeting my eyes again. “Is there something else I can help you with?”

He huffs out a sound. But right before he speaks, an “Excuse me” is said to the right of us.

We both turn to find a tall brunette standing there with a wide smile and gorgeous eyes, which are clearly focused on the man before me. “Hi,” Jase says to her.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I wanted to . . . you know, give you this.” She hands something to Jase. It looks like a folded napkin and he takes it.

“Thanks.” He flashes a grin as he glances at whatever’s on the napkin, his grin growing even wider before he pockets the note. “I’ll keep that in mind.”